Having planned to meet members of Toronto’s Greek community, I arrived at Pape. It is a beautiful neighborhood with two-story houses in the center of the old city. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was greeted by the sounds of Greek music. Old folk songs by Stelios Kazantzidis and Stratos Dionysiou played from restaurants and tavernas. Greek flags waved proudly in shop windows, while street names appeared in two languages: Greek and English.
Everywhere around me were Greek signs. A restaurant named “Messini,” a bridal shop called “Christina,” and a bakery named “Beautiful Athens.” Naturally, the owners served customers in Greek and offered traditional foods and products. This was Toronto’s first major Greek neighborhood, where many of the first Greek migrants settled—and where many still live today.
One of them is Nikos Xenodimitropoulos, now known as Nick Xenos, who was asked by Canadian authorities to shorten his name when he applied for papers, as they considered it far too long.
Xenos tells his story: he arrived in Toronto in 1957, worked for years as a cook, and is now 87 years old and retired.
“The situation in the village was difficult. I had two sisters to marry off, so I decided to leave for Canada. At that time, many compatriots of mine were going to Toronto, so when I got there, I knew I would have someone to help me find work, so I wouldn’t be completely alone among strangers. At first, I started working in construction because I didn’t know the language. Back then there was a lot of building going on, and many jobs available, but they were poorly paid,” he recalls, before continuing his story.
“A few years later my sister also came to work as a maid in the home of a wealthy Canadian family. Soon after, I arranged her marriage to a Greek, I also married a Greek woman, and we all lived together in the same 40-square-meter house. It took years for us to get on our feet, but we never gave up. We tried to spend as little as possible on ourselves so we could send some money back to our parents. With hard work, we managed. But we never forgot we were Greek. My sister, her husband, and their children eventually returned to Greece. I never considered going back. My daughters are Greek, and so are my grandchildren. We don’t want our identity to disappear.”
